Promise
by stagetrinity
Summary: A oneshot about Helga and her junior prom experience. Hope you enjoy


Anywho, Just a oneshot ._. I was remembering my first prom. It wasnt quite as bad a this (this one has a happy ending =P) but it was crappy anyway. I would turn it into a story, but Arnold couldnt play the boy. ._. Girls, how bad does it suck when your best guy friend calls you at midnight the night before prom to ask you to go because his original date cancels (and you have a crush on him, so you say yes) but then you realize you dont have a dress and you cant get one before the dance, but youre lucky you do theatre and collect some old dresses, but you still look and feel totally out of place because yours isnt really a prom dress and when you get to the dance your "date" spends the night dancing with another girl while you dance alone on the bleachers? *takes a deep breath* that happened to me and has nothing to do really with this story...well maybe a little!

gah!

just read it =p

* * *

It was mostly dark outside the old gym, only a few outside lights had been turned on as well as a few twinkle lights. There weren't even any cars passing on the nearby streets to share their bright headlights with the lonely girl sitting in parking lot, her back against one of the large brick flower holders.

She knew she had no real reason to be upset, it was her own fault really. So what if her beautiful pink and white dress now had a large punch stain on its blossoming bottom, or if tenderly curled blond locks had been pulled unceremoniously from the bun she had fashioned them on, and who cared if she had broken the heel on her white slippers? No one, really. But she did. She didn't want to admit it, she didn't want anyone to know how it had hurt her so bad inside when the one and only Rhonda had tripped her as she made her entrance by the snack table, tipping the filled glasses onto her dress and causing some forks to get caught up in her carefully done hair.

"Oops, Sorry," Rhonda apologized sarcastically. "I'm so clumsy. Here, let me help." Rhonda had then reached down and tipped her cup of punch into Helga's face. "Oh, sorry again!"

Helga felt her anger flare inside of her, and she longed to rip the French designed dress from Rhonda's perfect figure, and to punch her squarely in her overly made up face. But Helga just smiled in mock pleasure, stood, and stomped her way outside by the flowers, which was were she still was.

"I shouldn't have even made an effort!" she snarled, taking off her broken white heel and slamming it beside her other non-broken one. Thirty-five hard earned bucks down the drain. And that was just the shoes. The dress was a whole other story.

She had spent weeks working feverishly to save money for the dress she had first met over a month ago. It was in the window of a bridal shop two towns away, a beautiful pink number that had caused her stop immediately and reach out for it.

It consisted of pale pink sequins that seemed to bleed into white lacey fabric as it continued to the bottom of the dress. The waist where the colors seemed to merge followed the pink sequins into intricate Victorian style swirls and they continued down the dress before disappearing. It was a fantasy dress.

"How much?" Helga demanded breathlessly as she pushed the door to the store open, startling the woman who was lounging on the counter.

"Excuse me?" the brunette woman at the counter asked, giving Helga a confused look.

"The pink one in the window!" Helga cried in exasperation as she practically ran over the counter, her hands clenched into tight fist at her side. "I need to know how much it is."

The woman gave Helga skeptical look, taking in her sloppy and uneven pigtails, oversized black t-shirt with the bold purple word 'Fail' emblazoned on the front, and ink splattered jeans.

Helga popped her gum loudly, breaking the woman's critical scrutiny suddenly. "You're serious?"

"Why, you got a problem if I am?" the blond inquired, placing a hand on her hip defiantly.

"Well, I mean, it just seems you'd prefer something from the back of the shop. I mean, we cater to all dress needs. Here, follow me," the woman explained, making her way out from behind the counter. The clicking of her heels contrasted sharply with the loud thudding of Helga's boots on the tile as they proceeded to the back section of the store.

"This is our Lolita line. I'm sure you'll find something here you want," the brunette asked hopefully, clasping her hands behind her back as she watched Helga standing stiffly at the entrance to the room.

"No," Helga said confidently as she shook her head at the room. "I'm not going to wear any black dress that looks like its been run through a blender. If I wanted that, I'm sure I could make one that looks better for half the price of these."

The woman sighed reluctantly as she followed Helga to the dress in the window. Helga pointed stubbornly. "This one."

"That one is a name brand and is currently the last in stock. It's on sale for $190, but for a limited time only."

"Can I try it on?" Helga asked breathlessly, running her purple and pink polished nails down the dress. It felt as beautiful as it looked.

The woman frowned as she gently removed the dress from the manikin and made her way to the dressing room. "Do you need any help miss?" she asked reluctantly.

"I'm a big girl, I got it," Helga muttered with a roll of her eyes. She gently took the dress from the woman and closed the door of the dressing room.

Helga stripped down quickly, then took a deep breath as she slipped the dress on and zipped it. It was utterly magical. The fit couldn't have been more flattering, and the color couldn't have been more complementing to her hair and skin color. She knew she couldn't afford it all at once, or the it would be uncharacteristic for her to show up at the Prom, more so for her to be wearing such an elegant dress. Helga gave a modest smile.

But the Helga sitting alone and dirty outside seemed a far cry from the Helga in the mirror. Helga exhaled deeply as she pulled her knees to her chin and rested her on them. She was Helga G. Pataki, and nothing could change that. No amount of mascara, or eye line, or eye shadow, or eye brow waxing would make her a beautiful person in the way she wanted to be. Just once she had wanted a fairy tale, to be able to blend flawlessly with everyone and not stand out. But life wasn't some story book and she should've known better. She quickly wiped the tears that were threatening to spill away with her lace gloved palm. Helga knew there was no reason to stay out here and feel sorry for herself, but she hated high school! And she just couldn't bear to drag herself home in this state.

The music from inside was loud, and it was currently a beautiful slow number she was particularly fond of herself…in her room alone. Not in public.

"Criminy! I can't stand this. Nothing could be any stupider!" Helga snarled to herself, reaching out and snatching up her shoes. "I shouldn't have even wasted my time."

"Helga?"

Helga jerked her head up, mouth agape as she stared up at the beautiful boy who had just spoken her name. He look unbelievably handsome in his tuxedo, even if his jacket was currently dragging the ground slightly as he held it loosely in his fist.

"What're doing out here?" the green eyed god asked as he continued to look on at her in a confused manner.

"I…I'm just resting football head! Gosh! Can't a girl get a little piece around here! Criminy!" Helga sputtered suddenly, quickly looking away.

"Resting with broken shoes and a stained dress," Arnold observed, taking in her disheveled appearance with a knowing look in his eyes. "Something happened, huh?"

"So maybe I tripped, what of it?" Helga muttered, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance.

Helga felt her breathing speed up as she felt Arnold sit down next to her, placing his jacket around her shoulders. "You're not clumsy enough to do this much damage on your own."

Helga let out a large sigh, taking in the smell of his jacket as she changed the subject with "You don't want to mess up your tux, do you? And you're dates probably worried sick. You should go back inside, I'm fine."

"Actually, I was kind of suffocating," Arnold said with a nervous laugh, running his slender fingers through his cornflower colored hair.

"Clingy?" Helga said with a small smile.

"A little bit," Arnold said as he pulled one knee up so he could rest his arm on it. "What about your date? Who are you with?"

"Me, myself, and I," Helga said with a frown, falling back heavily against the flower pot.

"Oh," Arnold mouthed, looking over at her sad expression. "Didn't get asked by the right person?"

Helga let out a rough chuckle. "You could say that," she muttered as she glanced over. She nervously brushed one of her fallen curls behind her ear. "Not that it matters, really. I mean, it's not like I was waiting to be asked."

Arnold smiled from beside her. "Well, it's a shame he didn't. You look beautiful tonight."

Helga gave a sarcastic grin as she relished the irony of the statement, but she couldn't hide the slight blush that crept into her cheeks. "Don't try and make me feel better football head, I know I look like crap."

"No, of course you don't!" Arnold cried, his eyes widening. He cocked his head to the side, then smiled sheepishly as he added, "You look…you look pretty all the time, really, so I don't know where you get the idea you don't."

Helga stared back in shock, blinking her eyes in surprise. "I..uh..thanks, Arnold," she muttered, at a lost for an appropriate retort to the his complement. "You look handsome tonight, too."

Arnold laughed, breaking the awkward tension that had fallen around them. "Thanks Helga. It's one of grandpas old suits. Go figure!" he said, holding out his arm so she could take in the old material.

"Well it suits you," she responded, smiling sincerely.

"Thanks," he smiled, "And your dress suits you."

Helga sighed. "I thought so to when I tried it on. I'm not so sure anymore," she mused, lifting up a piece of the punch stained fabric. The big red splatters on the dress were glaring.

"You ever seen Carrie?" Arnold blurted suddenly. "Cause if you got a little more of that punch you could pull it off."

"Oh shut up!" Helga chuckled as she dealt him a hard, yet playful, punch to the arm.

"I was only saying," the boy chuckled as he rubbed his injured arm.

"I'm not gonna do any murdering on prom night."

"I didn't say that," Arnold defended. "Just you could do the look."

Helga let out a laugh as she reached up and pulled her punch stained bun down. It feel in sticky red stained blond ringlets around her face and down her back. "Well?"

Arnold looked at her for a moment before giving a soft smile. "If you wanted to, but you'd ruin your hair."

"Like it isn't already," she snorted, running her hands through it to break the sticky clumps.

"Here," Arnold said, pushing her hands away as he ran his fingers through her ringlets to break the knots. "No point in messing the gloves up, too."

Helga blushed as she felt his fingers brush against her cheek as he pulled them through her sticky hair. She felt utterly embarrassed again by how she looked, and she was sure he could hear her heart threatening to burst from her ribcage.

"There we go," he said softly as he pulled his hand away slowly. Helga opened her eyes reluctantly.

"Thanks," Helga muttered, reaching down and playing the lacey fabric of her dress. "I should probably get home any wash up anyway. And your dates probably worried sick about you."

"I don't think she's particularly thrilled to be here with me anyway."

"Why's that?" Helga asked, noting the hint of sadness that lace Arnold's voice.

"Well, she disappeared off to dance with one of the seniors ad I haven't seen her since. I was kinda heading home when I saw you," he said sheepishly, picking one of the flowers from the bush and twirling it in his fingers.

"Oh," Helga muttered. "Hey, gee, I'm sorry. I…I think she's missing out, ya know? She should be glad you asked her."

Arnold grinned. "Hey, it's all for the best. I'm having more fun talking to you anyway."

Helga felt herself blush scarlet, and she looked away. She gave a smile as she took in what he had just said. He actually was having fun…with her. "Me too, football head," she said with a sincere smile.

Helga watched as Arnold pushed himself up and wiped of his pants. He then extended a hand. "So, Helga, how would you like to be my prom date?"

"What!?"

"Well, unless you wanna sit out here. But I'd be honored if you'd agree to be my date."

"You've already got one," she scowled.

"So how about I reserve all the rest of the dances for you, then?"

Helga hesitated.

"And can I reserve you as my date for next year?"

"I…okay," she breathed. Her head was spinning as she took Arnold's hand and he pulled her up beside him. "But…my dress."

"I think you look lovely," he assured her.

"Promise?" she asked skeptically.

"Promise."


End file.
